It was one of the most affecting moments during the recent Wembley tribute concert for Taylor Hawkins; towards the end of what had been an already uplifting and emotional day, the lost drummer’s eldest child Shane took to take his father’s stool for a performance of My Hero, at which he fearlessly matched his dad’s energy and enthusiasm, giving the song a spine-tingling poignancy.
It was a unique opportunity taken with admirable composure, reiterating the bond that forms out of a career choice so often handed down generationally.
There aren’t any numbers on it, but you feel that having maternal or paternal musicians probably ups the chance substantially of children becoming one themselves.
They also go on to take other paths. Leah Weller is the daughter of the no-introductions-necessary Paul and renowned soul singer D C Lee, but as a teenager rather than attempt to emulate them became a model, working with Vivienne Westwood amongst others.
Her key takeaway from the experience however was that, ‘I didn’t like doing it – and that was music was my calling’.
After an adolescent flirtation with Marylin Manson, she then more sensibly embraced David Bowie and Prince as role models, before starting out playing cover versions to disinterested punters in local pubs.
The catalyst for turning these modest beginnings into what would become Freedom was Ocean Colour Scene and Weller band member Steve Cradock, whom she impressed with her demos enough to invite her to record them in his Devon studio.
Cradock admired her keenly attuned musical sensibility, whilst his mentee was able to focus wholly on writing for the first time.
The result is an album which brings with it a timeless feel; the titular opener has a bossa undertow that opens out into a dream-swept chorus, the lyrics reflecting personal journeys and navigating the longest distance required to get from point A to point B.
It’s typical of the singer’s willingness to court introspection, but on Dive In – co-written with her father on the day she told him she was pregnant – the overwhelming sense of the occasion’s joy bursts through, an interloping flute perfectly tricking the rest of a sumptuous arrangement.
As well as collaborating with Cradock, the singer also co-wrote a trio of songs with Paul Barry, a family friend whose previous work included Cher’s Believe and James Bay’s Let It Go.
Of those – Call Me by Your Name, Reason and Something Sacred – the latter’s bluesy grind is the pick, a tilt at the kind of harder edge her father’s work occasionally explores.
That said, it’s something of an outlier, and Freedom is at its best when fusing classic neo-soul with other more adjacent ingredients.
In this mould, both Strength and Wonder nudge into the space occupied by Back To Black (although without its wayward rawness), the former especially with its simmering brass a hugely worthwhile reprise of Amy Winehouse’s gift to thrill.
As if to push the envelope a little but not too much, Pale Blue Sky then uses a muted country slide to layer in its melancholy.
In many ways the children of musicians who opt to make music – with either famous or unfamous parents – are hostages to fortune.
Leah Weller has had the luxury of time to choose the how, when and why, and in turn Freedom is a confident, accomplished album made by a confident, accomplished artist.
What happens next should be interesting.